Firsts
by hbcxgbdzx
Summary: “I’ve always been curious about you, Femme Boy,” Gary said, his eyes never leaving Petey’s, “and you know what they say, ‘curiousity killed the cat.’” Gary X Petey! Revamp of chapter 2 up! Chapter 3 up!
1. Firsts

Just a slight change from what I first posted, as suggested by Dazed Dreamer. Thank you everyone for the support and advice and expect chapter 2 up soon!

--

He had always imagined his first kiss.

In his mind, he had catalogued his series of firsts, at least, the ones he could remember. There was his first hair cut, when he was three, and he remember shaking in fear, terrified that the hair dresser would slip and cut off his head with her seemingly too sharp scissors. And there was his first day of kindergarten, he remembered he was up early that morning, setting out his outfit as best a five year old can (there were a few mismatches). By the time he had finished his cereal, it was five o'clock. He was ready for school a whopping three hours too early. Needless to say, Peter's mother wasnt too pleased to be woken up at what she called an "ungodly hour."

That same day was supposed to bring another first for Peter, a first friend. But that first never came. Undiscouraged, Peter told himself that the other children were shy themselves, and eventually would warm up to him eventually. All he ever received were taunts, and cruel jokes. He never understood what he had done, perhaps he had rubbed them the wrong way, maybe he wore the wrong clothes, or maybe he was just that one unlucky child that every class has. Was he the one who, as he had said was too cool to be a dork, but too dorky to be anything else? He would never know.

There was another first that was burned clearly into his head.

The first day he had come to Bullworth.

For Peter, Bullworth was more than a new school, it symbolised a fresh start. It was here that he could change his persona of social outcast, all he had to do was take that first step, because to Peter, Bullworth was brimming with new opportunities.

He picked up his room key from the Welcome Center, and gave a grateful smile to the uninterested secretary, who in return just waved him away. Behind him he heard the line give a slow and lazy shuffle. Peter hoped that his roommate had already arrived, and was already at their room. He remembered the secretary mention his name faintly although he couldn't quite remember. Was it Larry? Eh, it didn't matter, soon enough he would meet him. He could already imagine what great friends they would be. Finally, he would always have a lab partner, he would never feel left out again. If he felt down, he would have someone to talk to. Peter could feel an uncontrollable excitement rise in his chest. No matter what, he would make **sure** his roommate liked him. Going to Bullworth was going to be the greatest.

He finally turned onto the Boy's Dormitory. He took a deep breath and walked up the stairs to the doors and opened them.

_102_, he thought to himself, _I'm in 102_.

He looked at the numbers on the doors and noticed that they were increasing to the right. He made a sharp left turn and began searching.

_Ah, there it is_. Third door on the left.

Peter stood there for a while. Turning this door knob was going to change everything for him. He wasn't going to be a loner anymore. He was finally going to have friends!

He took another breath, his deepest one of the night, and turned the knob.

He looked in and saw two beds on opposite sides of the room. The room itself was slightly ratty, there was chipped paint and peeling wallpaper everywhere and the floor was looking particularly creaky. He turned his attention to the boy who was lying on the farthest bed, facing the wall.

"Hi, I'm Peter Kowalski, your new roommate."

He had said it with as much confidence as he possibly could.

He watched the boy roll over painstakingly slowly, and noticed a rather nasty, thin, fleshy scar over the boy's right eye. Peter stood uncomfortably, he was aware he was being scrutinised by the other boy. Up and down, up and down went the other boy's eyes. He opened his mouth slowly.

"Are you sure you're a boy?"

It was like a stake through the heart.

"Wh-what do you mean?!" sputtered Peter, rather indignantly, and in a high pitched voice.

"Well," the other boy drawled, "you're small, very small."

"There are a lot of small boys!"

"It's not just that though," the other boy added slowly, "when you walked in, I detected the faintest scent of strawberry. And you're wearing pink."

At this, Peter blushed. He had been in such a rush this morning; he had accidentally used his mother's shampoo.

The boy stood suddenly.

"So," he continued, "I was just doing the gentlemanly thing, and trying to point you in the right direction. Although, if you are hell bent on insisting you're a boy, I won't stop you. I'll turn when you change."

He looked down, "Although, there isn't much there."

At this, Peter's face was aflame.

"And..." he whispered in his ear, "you aren't very convincing."

Peter was sure was going to die.

"By the way, I'm Gary Smith...what did you say your name was again?"

"Peter Kowalski."

Gary's upper lip curled into a sneer.

"No, no, no." He said, shaking his head slowly, "That just won't do."

He surveyed Peter slowly.

"How about," Gary paused slightly, "Femme-boy?"

Peter's dream of a new start crashed around him.

He only hoped to get crushed in the rubble.

--

"Sorry!"

"Ow!"

"Sorry about that Petey!" Gary snickered.

He was crouched behind the beat up couch in the common room, right behind Petey, poking him and shoving him in the hopes to get a rise out of him.

"Stop Gary! I'm trying to watch this!"

Mission accomplished.

Gary straightened himself out, hearing cracks and feeling pains in his knees. Femme-boy has held out longer than he had expected. He slowly sauntered around until he was standing next to Petey.

"Ahhh, swim team!" Gary exclaimed, "intellectual stuff."

He walked until he was in front of the T.V., sure he was blocking Petey's view. He watched Femme-boy shift around until to try and see the screen.

"So tell me Petey," Gary asked, "do you like watching the girls in their swimming costumes?"

His dark eyes watched Petey intently.

"Does that fuel your filthy little fantasies?"

"G-ga-gary! Just get out of the way!"

Gary leaned in mockingly, "Oh Marion! Show me your breaststroke again!"

Petey finally gave up on trying watching the show. He was now leaned back into the couch watching Gary's antics with a look of extreme annoyance on his face.

Gary leaned in even closer, placing his hands on his knees.

"Or wait?" he sneered, "do you like the boys on the team?"

"Yeah right Gary!"

"Which is it Petey?!" he said tauntingly.

"I see you guys are getting along, as usual." Jimmy said as he walked in.

"I'm just, toughening him up." Gary said and gave Petey a hard punch on the arm.

"Ow!" Petey exclaimed; he began rubbing his arm tenderly.

"Turning him into a man, or a woman, or something ..." Gary said sarcastically.

Pete, glad for the distraction, turned his attention back to the television screen, but found he couldn't focus on watching the programme. He let out a small sigh and let his eyes wander the room as he let his consciousness slide. Before he realized it, he was day dreaming.

--

"So Gary, have you made any friends at Bullworth yet?"

Gary turned over from his position on his bed. He looked at Peter sharply.

"Listen here **Femme Boy**, if there is ever one thing you learn from me and this shithole these sadists like to call a school, it's this one thing. Don't trust anyone. That means no friends."

"Gary, I have already asked you to stop calling me that."

"Fine, **Petey**."

"And besides," said Peter softly, "if you don't make friends, what does that make us?"

"Roomates."

--

Pete logged back into reality. He was hearing snatches of the conversation going on behind him, though he wasn't actually registering what was happening. He slowly started to listen in.

"Me?" Gary asked in rhetoric, "I've got planning to do!" He smirked and walked back over to the couch, leaning over Petey once more. Jimmy simply shook his head and walk out of the common room, presumably to go and save Bucky.

Gary returned his attention to Petey. He poked him in the back.

"Poke."

"Gary, knock it off!"

"Sorry." Gary chuckled and poked Petey again.

"Boop!"

More chuckling.

"Stop!"

Gary walked around to the front of the couch and lay down, stretching his feet across Petey's lap, yawning like the Chesire Cat, and certainly looking just as crazy. Gary let his head roll to the left and slowly began to drift off. Petey looked down at Gary, and felt a warm feeling rise up in his chest, one that he tried hopelessly to push away. But then, Gary abruptly sat up, almost knocking Petey in the jaw with one of his boots.

"Yo, Femme-boy," Petey much preferred being called Peter, but would even take being called Petey over Femme Boy any day.

"Yes, Gary?" Petey answered tiredly.

"Are you gonna answer my question?"

"Which one Gary," Petey said, his eyes never leaving the screen.

Gary sat up, and crossed his legs under him, propped his head up in his hand, and he leaned in close. So close, in fact, that Petey could smell his cologne, which had a slightly dizzying effect on poor Petey.

Gary was far too close for Petey's comfort.

"The one about the girl swimmers and the boy swimmers."

"W-why?"

"I've always been curious about you, Femme Boy," Gary said, his eyes never leaving Petey's, "and you know what they say, 'curiousity killed the cat.'"

That is exactly was Gary was, a cat. He sometimes appeared soft and inviting, like he was the warmest person on earth, and other times, he would hiss at you for no reason and avoid you for days at a time. If you tried holding him during this time, he would claw you, no matter how gentle you were with him.

Gary never thought of anyone but himself, and just like a cat, he always, always, toyed with his prey before going in for the kill.

Petey felt like he was being toyed with.

"It's not like it would matter anyways, Petey, you're so feminine..." Gary said softly, as he brought his hand to Petey's face.

"So soft," he whispered, and he moved closer, Gary had moved so far that he was practically on top of Petey.

"Always smelling like strawberries..." At this point, Gary had nestled his face into the crook of Petey's neck. A blush rose into Petey's cheeks and he gave a small gasp.

Gary was an experienced hunter. He knew what queues he should back away from and which queues were a go signal.

So he pounced.

Petey's mind was racing. At high speed. If the speed his thoughts were travelling could be measured, he you have found he had already broken the sound barrier and was going much faster the speed of light.

Petey placed his hand on Gary's chest in a rather warranted attempt to push him away; however, it was at this point Gary began doing something **very** interesting to a spot just under his earlobe. He fisted the fabric of Gary's shirt and gave a low moan. He felt Gary smile and could almost **taste** his smugness.

"G-gary," Petey shuddered as he felt his lips ghost over his earlobe, "what are you doing?"

Gary pulled away and Petey had to fight the feeling of disappointment rising in his chest. He placed a hand on either side of Petey. Gary looked at him coldly.

"Go on Petey, go cry to the teachers! Tell them I was nasty to you, that I assaulted you."

Those words sounded familiar. "Quit being a jerk Gary, I was just asking a question."

"Oh you're so **cutting**, I'm really upset! Actually, I think I'm going to **cry**."

"Jesus Gary, it was just a fucking question! I never said I wanted you to stop!"

Gary crushed his lips against his.

--

His first kiss.

He had always imagined his first kiss as something gentle and romantic, but one where there was a passion evident.

And here he was lying under Gary Smith.

Somehow, this didn't seem to match his childhood dream, because, of all things, Gary Smith least epitomized romance. But Petey was too dizzy to be concerned.

Gary ran his tounge lightly over his lips causing Petey to shudder, opening his mouth. Gary tasted bittersweet, like honey and lemon, except, stronger on the lemons.

He tasted wonderful.

Gary pulled away and looked at Petey. His school vest was wrinkled and his eyes closed. Lips swollen and cheeks flushed, his eyes fluttered open. Gary watched as Petey's lips moved slightly.

"Please Gary, don't stop."

_Fuck._

Gary shoved off of Petey roughly, his face aflame. He made his way swiftly to the door, but stopped abruptly.

"This doesn't leave this room."

Leaving Petey shocked, and rather bothered, and wanting a certain first back.


	2. Dazed

I'm sorry, Im too much of a perfectionist, so I had to fix this chapter up! LoL, anyways, chapter 3 is a third done, but it will be easier now since this chapter gives it more direction.

--

**Dazed**

He had to force the tap handle as far as he could to the left to even get the smallest trickle running from the faucet. This school was so run down; it was unbelievable that it was still allowed to operate. He was sure there must still be asbestos in the walls and ceiling. With his fortune, or rather, his misfortune, he would end up with a cancer of the lungs, and end up a millionaire after winning his lawsuit against whatever suits ran Bullworth. Knowing this school though, it would probably be bankrupt before his crossed the stage in his cap and gown.

He was beginning to sound too much like Constantinos.

_Besides, that's not all I have to look forward to._

He finally managed to get a decent amount of water running after what seemed like years of pushing. He scooped his hands underneath, too much of the water escaping through the cracks between his fingers. A quick splash across the face, and he was jolted out of his daze as he hoped he would be. Feeling his eyelashes sticking together and water trickling down his face, he took a close look at himself in the mirror.

He was looking rather dishevelled, if he did say so himself. His school vest was beyond wrinkled, and the collar of his shirt was slightly upturned at the back. He lifted his head a little and turned it to the right, and there it was; evidence he wasn't losing his mind.

_So, it wasn't a dream._

A small bruise was beginning to form, just above the contour of his jaw. In stark contrast to his pale skin, it was already a dark purple, only a few moments after the . . . incident.

_Teeth_ _marks._

Jesus, now there was no way he was going to be able to blow this off as a miscalculated blow to the jaw. And unless he planned on bringing popped collars back to the fashion scene . . . that in itself would bring attention to him when he so desperately **didn't** want it. He could already hear the preps in their Aquaberry, jeering.

"We knew you were hopeless, Kowalski, but **this** is pathetic."

Not an option.

He already knew he couldn't play it off like he got it like any red blooded teenage boy would have, because none of the girls on campus would touch him with a 40 foot pole. Unless he said he messed around with some skanky townie. But even **he** wouldn't do that.

So it would have to just stay this way.

He brought his fingers up and lightly brushed the spot, and felt a blush rise into his cheeks. He could just imagine him there again . . .

He straightened himself out, and did his best to fix his clothes.

_It's time to face the music._

--

He stared mindlessly into the flickering light on the roof; even figured out a patter. The light would stay on for about three seconds and then flicker off and on twice. It was the same thing, over, and over, and over again. He was quickly losing interest in the light when he noticed a spider scuttle quickly across the roof. He could just imagine Femme Boy squirming at the sight, he had always been squeamish. He could never watch a whole slasher flick, and was always positively green by the time Biology class rolled around. The very appealing idea of putting the spider in Petey's bed had crossed his mind, but he just couldn't bring himself to move from his position.

So there he stayed, slumped in front of the door.

All he could do was replay the turn of events in his mind, over, and over, and over again.

Just thinking about it turned his stomach.

He fell forward, on hands and knees, and felt his stomach twist, but come up with nothing. He dry heaved until he felt bile burn his throat as it began to rise and fill his mouth. He forced himself to swallow his bitter medicine as a type of twisted punishment for his misdeeds. It was the worst he was going to allow himself to do.

No matter where he went, he couldn't escape him.

And he wasn't sure which one he was talking about anymore

--

I turned the doorknob slowly, and gave the door a push, and felt a weight on the door.

"Gary, I need to get into the room."

No answer.

I threw my weight against the door and pushed, which I knew was pointless, but I tried regardless. There was some shuffling behind the door, and a small creak was heard as weight was removed.

"Gary, I need to go to sleep. It's two in the morning."

Gary opened the door and turned away.

"Go to sleep."

I stepped in and closed the door behind myself softly.

"Gary, we need to talk."

"Talk?" Gary said tiredly, "We have **nothing** talk about."

I pointed to the mark. "You call this nothing?"

"Yeah I call that fucking nothing." Gary said angrily, "As far as tomorrow goes, I have no idea how you got that, so you can figure how you're going to explain that away on your own. "

"You know what Gary? You opened this can of worms, so you can't just back away. Own up to what you did!"

He didn't answer me.

"Fine, whatever."

I turned around and began pulling my school sweater over my head, letting it fall to the ground. I began to fumble with the buttons at the front of my shirt when I felt someone standing behind me. I felt his heated breath blow across my skin, making me shudder. He brought his hand to my shoulder and ran it across lightly.

"Pete, you need to get out of here. Now."

I spun around sharply and looked at him questioningly.

"What are you talking about? You know, I do live here."

The way he was looking at me sent shivers down my spine. It wasn't the usual, cold look. There was something else in his eyes, something far more sinister.

"If you don't get out now," he hissed, "I'm going to end up doing something I regret. So just get the hell out of here!"

He had had me frozen before, but when he said that, I stumbled backwards and out of the room, in my thin pink shirt into the cold fall night.

--

I stumbled out of the dormitory, letting the heavy doors fall behind me with a loud bang. I took a step forward, and my world turned upside down; suddenly I was at the bottom of the concrete steps, completely disoriented and not completely upright. I pushed myself off of the ground slowly, and brought my hand up to the right side of my face and roughly brush the gravel. I gave myself a quick look over when I notice that my right knee had been so badly scraped that the fabric of my school pants had been torn through.

_Great. Just great._

I looked at the top of the steps, to see the culprit had been a shiny green BMX bike. Jimmy! That **jerk**! I kicked at the gravel angrily, and looked around. I had nowhere to go. I brought the bike down quietly climbed on. I might as well get some fresh air while I was out here.

I pushed off and began biking towards the town lights.

--

I wasn't even sure how I had ended up here; I hadn't intended to come here at all.

"Force of habit, I'd guess." I muttered to myself.

The last place I wanted to be, but it seemed that it was my only option. I swung off and dragged the bike slowly to the side of the house, limping thanks to the injury the piece of crap caused. I propped it up against the side of the house, unconcerned when it toppled over. I quickly sidestepped so it wouldn't crush my toes, and made my way cautiously to the trellis. Damn thing was over grown with ivy; it was going to be a difficult climb. I swung my right leg up and pulled myself on quickly trying to find a proper footing through the slippery leaves. I winced when I caught a splinter in my right hand as I reached the window. With my opposite hand I reached out and fumbled to unlatch the window. I pushed it open and pulled myself in, landing on my bed rather hard. I rolled over slowly onto my back and inhaled; it smelled odd . . . foreign almost. I sat up and looked around, and realized nothing seemed familiar, almost as though this was someone else's room, out of someone else's storybook life. Large, engulfing, and echoing, I felt like I was going to be swallowed whole. I stood and wandered the room, no objective in mind when I noted, absentmindedly, that something's were missing, pictures and odd knickknacks.

This room . . . was too much. I wasn't ready to face what it represented; what I did that summer, and what it meant.

But no matter how hard I tried, I was never going to escape.

--

This place was a palace. I hadn't realized how long I had really been gone, until I stepped into the bath tub. I was too used to the Academy's terrible bathrooms. The super heated water felt good against my skin, though it stung my scrapes a little, it helped me to relax. I sank low into the water as I spilled the strawberry bubble bath into the water, and watched the bubbles form for what seemed like hours when I heard a small sob in the distance.

--

I had opted to keep my pink shirt, but the pants had to go. I shift uncomfortably in the beige Aquaberry slacks I had chosen, they hadn't been broken in yet, I had actually found it with the price tag still on it.

_A total waste of money, if you ask me._

I might have sworn to spend as much time away as possible, but now that I was here, I wasn't cold hearted enough to turn away. So here I was making my way to the master bedroom, unsure if this was the right thing to do. As I got closer, that the sobs got louder and more heartbreaking. It was disarming, to think that I . . .

I slowly pushed the door open, and entered the dimly lit room. I saw, everything. Everything that used to be in my room was piled around the king sized canopy bed. Sketchbooks, stuffed animals, novels, school books, pictures . . . everything was there. It was almost like it was a barrier against the world.

_I was supposed to protect her, and I couldn't._

At the center of it all. She was tiny, with deep auburn hair, and dark chocolate eyes, she was collapsed on the bed, body wracked with sobs, hands balled into tiny fists. All I could do was watch, trapped. It was like some type of horrifying spell was cast over me, and all I could do was watch as she fell apart before my eyes. The spell was broken when suddenly, her tears slowed, and her body relaxed. Out of her hand rolled a small prescription bottle. I made a move to retrieve it when she finally noticed me standing in her doorway.

"R-r-robert?"

I smiled sadly, and leaned forward to pick up the bottle. Marianne Kowalski, RX: Xanax. So this is what she had been reduced to, all on my account. I shook my head, "No, it's me," I said, "Peter."

"Oh, Peter," she said brightly, obviously trying to cover up her previous tears, "I've missed you so much!" She said, spreading her arms wide to show me her shrine. She began straightening her clothing, "Stand up straight, Peter, let me get a good look." I did as I was told. "Oh," she said, practically chirping, "you've grown so much! How tall are you now?"

I thought her behaviour odd, she had done a complete 180 from when I had seen her earlier, but I just dutifully answered her question. "I'm 5'6", now."

"See, I told you not to worry so much about your height last year, and I was right! You'll at least be 5'8" by your graduation."

"Hmm."

"Come closer." she said, and I obliged. She began, what I could only call and inspection, as if she was making sure that I was real, holding my head at odd angles, I was poked and prodded at, though, I didn't mind too much.

"Have you been using my shampoo?"

At this, I blushed, and gave a small nod.

She laughed gaily, "You sure are one odd boy," she leaned forward and began fixing the collar of my shirt, "but you have turned out rather handsomely. I've always told you that pink was your colour. You are going to look so good the day you get marri-."

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. We sat in silence until it was broken a minute later by a strong gust of wind began blowing against the house.

"Peter, how about you get me a cup of coffee?"

"Sure." I made a move to leave, but stopped me and grabbed at my hand, for the prescription.

She smiled at me desperately, "You can leave that behind." And she reached out again once I shook my head, "Please," she begged, "please." She leaned on me, and I felt the tears slowly start to soak my shirt. I shook my head my head.

"You don't need these anymore."

I looked her in her eyes.

"Can I stay the night?"

--

Okay, you can expect chapter 3 soon, maybe even tonight if Im not too lazy, but I make no promises!


	3. Your Own Personal Nightmare

**Your Own Personal Nightmare**

Gary was in a bad mood.

Maybe bad mood wasn't the greatest choice of wording; Gary was always in a bad mood. Perpetual funk seemed to more accurately describe Gary at the present moment. That mixed with his general nastiness made him a force that the majority of the school's population avoided more than usual. At least, that was on the first day.

Gary, now on day two of his "funk", was lying on his back arms crossed, staring angrily out the window at the rising sun, willing it mind and soul to sink back into the horizon. Light was not something he was prepared to face at the moment. He gave a resigned sigh and closed his eyes.

Today was going to be a shitty day.

--

They had fallen asleep together, in a tangle of limbs and tears. He hated himself now more than ever, and was even debated whether or not he should make his great escape now. But the idea repulsed him; it made him feel like he was trying to leave after a one night stand. This, however, was his family, not some awkward affair. They sure made him feel that way though, his family, **the** awkward affair. Everything about who he was disgusted him, though it shouldn't. Even the family home made him sick to his stomach; everything about it was so pretentious and fake.

He sighed and slowly untangled himself from the mess of limbs, careful not to wake her and made his way to the bathroom to wash his face, hoping to wake from his own personal nightmare.

--

Zoe Taylor fucking hated this place.

The list of reasons would go on for days. It stank to high hell; the food was probably more fit as an experimental chemical than it was for consumption, and it was possible that the guys at the school were more bitchy and underhanded than the girls were. All were very legitimate reasons, but none of them topped her ever growing list of why she was going to end up pay good money to a shrink when she was older. The position was reserved for what could only be the greasiest, nastiest, most perverted man on campus. He liked to be called Mr. Burton; she liked to call him Greasy Bear.

Zoe's patience with the ever persistent Greasy was wearing dangerously thin. He seemed to have taken a special interest in her, and his not so subtle quips during class time were beyond awkward. But she knew she had to wait until she had enough ammunition to go after him. Too soon, and the oblivious principle would just chalk it up to some kind of twisted school tradition. No, she would have to wait until she had something really damaging.

Zoe tossed her long red hair over her shoulder and put her school blouse on. Face paint seemed appropriate at the moment.

She was going to war after all.

--

It was decided.

He **really** hated mornings.

--

He heard, choking, laboured breathing in the distance, almost like someone was dying. He was frozen, unsure where the sound was coming from, and helpless to move to do anything about it. He swore he heard the Twilight Zone theme tinkering somewhere off in the distance. He swallowed hard and made his way out of the bathroom quickly, his face still wet. That's where he found her, clawing at her stomach, writhing on the floor like there was a monster trapped deep within her body, begging to be set free. Frantically, he searched he pockets for the small bottle, and popped it open. He knelt down to her side, and noticed she was biting her lip with her jaw so locked that she was drawing blood. Easing he mouth open gently, he placed the small pill on her tongue and watched her swallow.

He wrapped her tightly in his arms, tears threatening to spill. "Mom . . ."

He was glad, he thought, he face was still wet, as hot tears mingled with cold water.

--

That irritatingly searing migraine was still going strong in a place somewhere behind his eyes. He noted dully that it was 9:50. He was officially late for his classes; though he wasn't sure he cared to much at the moment. He also noticed that the sun decided to do what it pleased, being well above the horizon. He would deal with that later.

He flexed his arms experimentally and winced slightly, he felt sore all over, like was actually physically ill. He sighed heavily and sank back deeply into his sheets, maybe staying in bed would be a good idea. He could only take over the school if he was in top shape anyways.

--

No one ever said she didn't have a temper.

Far from it, anyone she knew would attest to what a firecracker she really was; she preferred fiery, really, it didn't sound so violent. But now, she was **livid**. The resident and ever loveable Greasy Bear pushed and shattered the limits. Zoe roughly brushed at her face, embarrassed by the stinging she felt behind her eyes. Showing weakness was not an option, but she couldn't feel anything but hopelessness. This man was taking her dignity and ripping it to shreds, and she wasn't sure how much more she could take.

--

Gary needed something to do.

He wasn't sure how much more boredom he could take.

--

Okay, I apologize for the lateness of this chapter, and the lack of excitement too, but I promise no more of that ! I will have a chapter up in a few days and with some promised boy love !


End file.
